Redemption
by Quintus Sertorius
Summary: If Metellus had known he would battle dragons, lose his left hand, and face a literal god, he may have thought twice before coming to skyrim.
1. Chapter 1

_-Helgen-_

He didn't want to be there. Nobody wanted to be there. Not even that horse thief, who couldn't stop complaining about the rebellion. It was understandable: how can one stay quiet when his own death awaits at the end of the line? But he was quiet, for the words spoken in front of him held valuable information, such as the identity of the gagged fellow on the right. However, this information brought him no comfort, as it meant there were truly no chances of escape. There was no doubt that the legionaries escorting the chariots were in large numbers: the Empire wouldn't want to let Ulfric Stormcloak escape from its grasp after all.

While he was thinking, the convoy entered Helgen, a city surrounded by sturdy stone walls. Once again, he thought, the imperial general didn't take much risks. Another one might have tried to join Solitude for a public execution, but this one definitively didn't want any chance of Ulfric getting away. Turning his head, he saw the same imperial general he was thinking of discussing with what seemed to be a thalmor envoy. This part didn't make much sense to him: why would the thalmors care for a rebel? Even if he did worship Talos, those elves didn't see that as important, otherwise they would have acted against the rebellion. His thoughts ended when the convoy stopped. The ride was over, and the executioner was waiting for the first head to chop.

Before being sent to their death, an Imperial captain, accompanied by a helmet-less legionary, recorded the names of each prisoner. When his turn came, he gave the name he was using at the time: Metellus. The soldier told him his ashes would be sent to Cyrodiil. A noble gesture, but quite useless for someone who planned to escape. Since his name was recorded, he moved toward the rest of the prisoners, who were waiting in front of the chopping block, just in time to catch a glimpse of the first execution. A stormcloak was the unfortunate first one to have his head chopped off. It didn't have much effect on him and the other prisoners. He was thinking that he had the time to plan his escape if they were killing all the stormcloaks first, but those thoughts were quickly proven wrong, as the Imperial captain ordered him to kneel in front of the chopping block. Without a plan, without any other alternative, he had to obey the orders. He had seen how the horse thief, who tried to simply run, had been effortlessly shot down by the imperial archers, and he didn't want to suffer the same fate.

His head lying on the block, he saw the ghosts of his victims march in front of his eyes? Would his life end up in this miserable little nord town? Was it retribution for all the wrong he did? Were the Daedra no longer amused by his actions? His mind being somewhere else, he didn't notice the strange roar which frightened the nearby soldiers, nor did he notice the dragon landing on the tower above him. Thus, he was quite surprised, for when he came back to reality, the imperial soldiers were in complete disarray, and Helgen was on fire.

He didn't have much time to think. His first reflex was to follow the other prisoners, who took shelter in a nearby tower. In the tower were Ralof, the nord who was speaking with the horse thief, Ulfric Stormcloak, leader of the rebellion, and a couple of rebels. It wasn't an ideal company for someone who had no intent on fighting the empire, but this would have to do for the moment. According to Ralof, there were several other rebels trying to clear the stairs on the first floor of the tower. Metellus was about to reach them when the wall was brutally breached and the stormcloaks incinerated by the breath of the dragon. However, he had a clear way out of this tower thanks to that. Only problem was that he had to jump on a neighboring building. It didn't look like much, but he hadn't eaten for days, and still had important bruises from the legionaries' treatment.  
Nevertheless, he had to jump. And he jumped. The landing, if such word can describe the shock that ran through his body, was rough. He was almost sure he had some ribs broken. Getting up and walking was where the real test began. He had underestimated his wounds and bruises to the point where he had huge spikes of pain each time he moved. That coupled with his exhaustion made it extremely painful to leave the wood house, which was on the brink of collapse.

In front of the house, he saw the soldier who was recording the names of the prisoners, alongside a child and another inhabitant of Helgen. The same soldier yelled at him to take cover, and he understood why when the dragon landed near him and bathed the place in fire. He successfully plunged behind the remnants of the walls, and miraculously avoided getting burned. The soldier urged him to move:

" Quickly! Follow me!"

It's not like he had much of a choice, and he didn't know the place. Following him was basically staying alive for the moment. They reached the gate, and although it was blocked by the broken stones from the walls, it was where the last remnants of the cohort that had escorted them were regrouping, effectively making it the safest place in all Helgen. The man who was organizing this last line of defense was the general he had previously seen. He was no longer on his horse, and his ceremonial armor had revealed itself as a sturdy steel chestplate. But the dragon wasn't planning on letting them regroup forever. Landing near the surviving archers, he burned a dozen of them, and killed several others by simply swinging his tail. Immediately, the heavy infantry charged to protect the last archers, but was either pushed aside by the fearsome tail, or mauled by the large jaws. In a couple of minutes, the gate went from being the safest place in Helgen to a slaughterhouse.

The soldier he had been following must have had the same thoughts, for he quickly turned back and headed for the dungeon. Metellus had no reason not to follow him, so he managed to stay behind him despite his exhaustion. Before reaching the dungeon, they came face to face with Ralof and a few stormcloaks, who had apparently survived the dragon. After a quick exchange, both the soldier and Ralof headed for 2 different entries to the dungeon. This time, Metellus decided to follow Ralof.

 _-Helgen Keep-_  
The major difference between the dungeon and the outside was the quietness in the former. The thick walls of stones were stopping the sounds from the struggle outside to reach the people inside. The quietness was, however, disturbed quite quickly, as 3 imperial soldiers entered the keep by another way. Metellus recognized one of them as the Imperial captain who was in charge of the order of passage to the chopping block. Ralof and the 2 other stormcloaks had also seen the legionaries and were now charging, a battle cry upon their lips.

Reacting as disciplined soldiers would, the imperials quickly fell into formation and met the nords' charge head on. The first stormcloak to strike missed the imperial captain by an inch with his greatsword. The latter, unfazed, sliced open his throat and then walked toward Metellus. The situation wasn't good for him: his hands were bound, he was exhausted and both Ralof and the other rebel were locked in combat with the legionaries. If he was to win this fight, he would have to dodge the first hit. Which came right after he had the thought: a straight thrust, aiming for his belly. He dodged on the left it while taking care of letting the sword pass through the space between his two arms and found himself almost behind the captain. Using this newfound advantage, he savagely pulled her arm back, breaking it in the process. He then searched for her sword, which was lying a meter away. He took it and cut his bounds. Ralof and the other had successfully killed the two other legionaries, allowing them to move deeper into the keep.

After going through several rooms without encountering serious resistance, they found themselves in a cave filled with spiders. It wasn't a tough fight but they had to look out for the poison thrown across the cave. However, after the spiders came the true test. A bear was guarding the way out of the cave. They were 3: 2 stormcloaks and a prisoner. One of them was exhausted, the others were still in good shape. It was doable. They only needed the first strike. It was decided that the stormcloak armed with a warhammer would strike first in order to stun the bear, then Ralof and Metellus would aim for the eyes and hopefully kill him.

When they were in position, the stormcloak charged the bear, warhammer raised. Taken by surprise, it didn't have the time to avoid being hit and received the warhammer directly on his head. The warhammer bounced back, the bear uninjured. A moment of silence was then heard in the cave, which ended with the bear slashing the stormcloak's leg, making him unable to move. Ralof and Metellus looked at each other and a mutual understanding was reached. They began running toward the exit, leaving their companion to the bear, ignoring his cries for help. When they were out, Metellus noticed Ralof was silently weeping. He wasn't used to abandoning comrades, it seemed. Turning back, he saw that Helgen was almost completely destroyed. With the town gone, the imperial captain and her list gone, and no one who saw him escape from the keep, nobody knew what happened to the prisoner named Metellus.  
Well, almost no one.

"Hey, fellow prisoner, closest town from here is Riverwoo-"

Ralof never got to finish his sentence, for his throat had been punctured by an imperial gladius. Leaving Ralof to die, Metellus began to make his way toward Riverwood. He knew the path, for he had studied Skyrim's maps before trying to cross the border. He had thought of retrieving Ralof's armor before trying to reach Riverwood, but if he was found by an imperial patrol, it wouldn't end well for him.

On the way to Riverwood, he met a farmer, who was bringing his cow as an offering to giants. It seemed like a strange gesture for Metellus, but the farmed assured him it was part of Nordic culture. It didn't really matter to him, but while the farmer was talking, Metellus grabbed his gladius, hidden in his rags, and plunged it in his skull. Such move allowed him to retrieve his clothes without too much blood on them. Now clad in his belted tunic, he continued to walk toward Riverwood.

 _-Riverwood-_  
He had finally arrived in Riverwood. On the contrary to Helgen, Riverwood only had a small wooden outer wall with lightly fortified gates. The garrison there was approximately 50 guards. Seeing how 400 legionaries were unable to stop a dragon, it was obviously quite defenseless when it came to those monsters.

Just after entering the town, he was stopped by a guard.

"Hey, you. Do you plan to keep travelling, or you're staying here?"

"Travelling."

"Perfect, can you go to Whiterun and warn the Jarl about a dragon?"

"A dragon?"

"Yes, Helgen went up in flames, and soon after some farmers came to us, scared shitless. Claimed they'd seen one of them dragon."

"I'll do it, then."

The news didn't surprise him. Helgen wasn't that far from Riverwood, and a dragon could fly, meaning it's quite easy to spot. At least, he now had an excuse to meet with the Jarl of Whiterun, but it also meant he couldn't stay in Riverwood for long. He had to keep going. 

_-Bleak Falls Barrow-  
_ He had no idea how it came to this. He went to Whiterun to warn the Jarl about the dragon, and he now found himself spelunking in a cave to retrieve a stone for some senile wizard. He didn't even have time to rest, and so he was still exhausted. Fortunately, resistance was for now limited, as only simple draugrs came to face him. They were slow and moved awkwardly. No match for him in close combat, however their archers could be a problem. He kept going deeper in the cave, and was about to enter a room full of spider web, when he heard noises behind him. When he turned back, he was greeted with the sight of a large battle axe aiming for his head. He only dodged it by a few millimeters, but lost his balance in the process. He quickly got up, but was punched away by the draugr. It looked like this draugr was not normal. Metellus slowly got up again, this time entirely focused on his enemy. The latter was armed, and armored. This was some bad news. He wasn't sure his gladius could penetrate the armor, and his magic pool was too low to allow him to use any spell long enough to kill. However, he had an advantage. The draugr was standing in a small pool of water, while he was standing on a dry stone. If he could reach that pool with his hand, he would be able to electrocute the draugr in seconds. He would only get once chance, as the draugr would most likely move after that.  
He quickly plunged toward the draugr, dodged the first strike, fell to the ground and extended his left han… he had no left hand. He was unable to move for a couple of seconds. How did the draugr do to strike with the axe again so fast? And then he noticed the ice shard. The draugr could use magic.


	2. Chapter 2

_-Bleaks Fall Barrow-  
_ Pain made its way to his brain. The feeling of blood erupting from his wound was enough to bring him to tears. However, he had no time for that. The draugr was still just above him, preparing his battle axe for the next strike. Fortunately, it hadn't moved from the pool of water, giving him the chance to finish this fight. Quickly moving his right hand, he touched the water with his fingers and summoned sparks. The draugr didn't even have the time to react and was electrocuted to the point where his flesh was starting to burn under the sparks. He waited a few seconds, to see if the draugr was still alive, and stopped the spell, only to summon a healing spell focused on his left wrist, where his blood was quickly pouring out. It was almost worse than having his hand cut. The pain of the flesh regenerating enough to stop the flow of the blood was something he had never felt before. It left him panting, lying on the stone floor, unmoving, uncaring.

He stayed like that for a few minutes, maybe hours, he didn't know anymore: he had lost the notion of time. When he finally got up, he noticed the torches in the tomb were still burning brightly. Another mystery linked to these ruins, alongside the well-preserved walking corpses guarding the place. He grabbed his left hand and finally entered the large room he had seen earlier; when he still had both of his hands.

The room was full of spider webs, and yet he didn't see any spiders. However, a dunmer was kept prisoner in one of the web, begging for help. Metellus was about to help him, when drops of an unknown liquid fell in front of him. When he looked up, he only had the time to curse the gods in his head before he was crushed to the ground by a massive spider. His precedent fight with the draugr had left him exhausted, making him unable to match the spider in terms of strength. He managed to free his blade from the numerous legs of his enemy, and tried to hack one of the legs pinning him down. Although it was quite unsuccessful, it still prompted the spider to try to bite his neck, allowing him to quickly plunge his gladius in its mouth. The spider reeled back, obviously in pain. He took advantage of this moment of weakness and lunged forward, sword first, aiming at the head of the spider. His sword penetrated deep into its main body, and it fell on the ground, dead.

With the spider dead, Metellus could finally take care of the trapped dunmer. Hacking the web, he realized it was hiding another corridor. He watched the dunmer fall to the ground and get back on his feet only to see him start running.

"Fool! You'll never have the golden claw!"

Metellus didn't even try to catch up to him, as he knew he was too exhausted for that. He grabbed once again his left hand, which he dropped during his fight with the spider, and this time stuck it in his belt. He followed the corridor, and began to hear the sounds of a fight. The dunmer had woken up several draugrs and was now facing them. He had already managed to kill two of them but the last one had a moment of luck and sent his head flying across the room, which bounced off Metellus's chest. The draugr looked at him, and Metellus looked back. The two of them began to slowly walk toward each other. When they finally arrived close enough to hit each other, they waited a few minutes. Then the draugr struck first, a slash from head to knee, aiming for Metellus's fighting arm. He parried the hit with his gladius, and gave him a leg kick on its right leg, breaking the fragile bone. The draugr fell on the floor, unable to keep his balance, and Metellus crushed its head with his foot. He turned around and looked for the dunmer's body. The corpse, still hot, contained a journal, from which Metellus learned the dunmer's name was Argil, and a golden claw. According to the journal, it was some sort of key. Metellus took it, and walked toward the end of the corridor, announced by a large wooden door. He opened it, and saw a large corridor, its walls decorated with gravures. At the end stood a stone wall, with some sort of lock. He recognized in the holes of the lock the pattern of the fingers of the claw, but didn't know what to make of the rings above it. However, when he tried to fit the claw in the holes, which fitted perfectly, nothing happened. He waited for a few seconds, and then heard some kind of mechanism. He didn't even wait to see what it could be, he threw himself to the ground, and he was proved right, as several bolts flew above his head, right through the spot he was standing on a few seconds ago. Inspecting the claw more closely, he realized there were inscriptions on it, depicting a code. When he looked at the rings, he noticed the same inscriptions. Moving each ring one by one, he finally understood the usefulness of the code, and managed to reproduce it. This time, when he tried to fit the claw, the door slowly disappeared in the ground.

Behind the door was a cave. It was a clear change from the tomb behind him, as it had no manmade floor and looked natural. Deeper in the cave, he found a stone bridge, allowing passage across an underground lake, leading to a stone platform. At the top of the platform, Metellus could see a curved wall, and before it a tomb, just like the draugrs' tombs he had seen before in the barrow. He began to walk toward the stone platform, passed the bridge, walked up the stairs, and reached the top. He noticed that next to the tomb was a large wooden chest, surprisingly well preserved for a humid place like that. He took a step toward the curved wall and stopped right after. He was beginning to hear whispers coming from the wall, and now that he was closer, he could see inscriptions on it. One of them was softly glowing. He tried to get away from the wall, but he couldn't move his legs. He was now starting to feel a thirst for the word. How did he even know it was a word? He just did. Just like any dovah. Dovah? The word felt foreign to him and yet strangely accurate. When he finally focused back on his body, he noticed he was right in front of the word and that darkness was starting to surround his field of view. A few seconds later, he blacked out.

When he came back to his senses, he was still in front of the word. He thought to himself that he was lucky no enemy found him in this state, and right after that he heard the top of the tomb behind him falling on the ground. He quickly turned back, his gladius in his hand. What greeted him was the sight of a fully armored draugr, armed with a greatsword. This time, no pool of water to save him, and the draugr wouldn't let him get close enough to push it in the lake. His gladius was too short to deal with the large greatsword, which meant he had to use magic for this fight. He casted stoneflesh on himself, and summoned a firebolt in his hand. He could have used fire against the draugr that took his hand, but his magic reserves were too scarce to ensure victory. The draugr charged first, delivering a horizontal slash aimed at his stomach. Metellus dodged it by quickly moving backward, and released his firebolt right in the head of the draugr, blinding it. He grabbed his gladius and charged the draugr. He dodged another hasty slash from the now blind draugr and pierced its chestplate with his gladius, tearing the flesh behind it. Then, he summoned sparks while still holding the gladius, and let them run over the blade to burn the draugr from the inside.

With the draugr dead, he walked toward the chest and opened it. In it were a bag of gold, a few iron arrows, a leather armor, and some healing potions. He emptied the chest and walked toward the exit, located on the left of the stone platform. On the way out, he spotted a stone in the tomb, probably the stone he was sent to retrieve. He grabbed it, and left the cave. 

_-Skyrim-_  
Now clad in leather armor and richer by a couple hundred pieces of gold, he walked back to Whiterun, with the hope that the healer there, Danica Pure-Spring, could fix his hand. If she couldn't, then he would have to seek other means. A one-handed person in a region like skyrim wouldn't survive long. But he had heard that the dwemers created some interesting automatons, and he was no stranger to magic engineering. However, if that was beyond his skills, he thought, the daedric princes could be the only way for him to get back his left hand.


End file.
